LETTER: Remembered

Published: Monday, December 24, 2012 at 2:05 p.m.

Last Modified: Monday, December 24, 2012 at 2:05 p.m.

My wife and I were having lunch at the Western Sizzlin the other day. I was wearing my green Vietnam Veterans cap and was a bit grumpy, perhaps because of a variety of chronic aches and pains.

There was some Christmas song being piped in overhead, which did little to put me in a holiday mood. It was then that six young men passed our booth being escorted to their table. They all were wearing U.S. Army camouflage uniforms.

These soldiers walked by our table several times going back and forth to the buffet area. I looked up at them a few times hoping to give them some semblance of recognition. However, none of them seemed to notice me.

A while later, the waitress walked up to our table and picked up the bill and said, “This is being taken care of.”

Never having this happen to me before, I muttered, “What? Who?” She just smiled and said, “The boys.” I looked over at the soldiers, and two of them looked away quickly.

As I rose to leave, I made eye contact with them and found myself coming to attention and sending a salute their way, all aches and pains forgotten. The salute was cheerfully returned.

It wasn’t so much having my bill paid as it was being recognized ... you know, remembered.

<p>My wife and I were having lunch at the Western Sizzlin the other day. I was wearing my green Vietnam Veterans cap and was a bit grumpy, perhaps because of a variety of chronic aches and pains.</p><p>There was some Christmas song being piped in overhead, which did little to put me in a holiday mood. It was then that six young men passed our booth being escorted to their table. They all were wearing U.S. Army camouflage uniforms.</p><p>These soldiers walked by our table several times going back and forth to the buffet area. I looked up at them a few times hoping to give them some semblance of recognition. However, none of them seemed to notice me.</p><p>A while later, the waitress walked up to our table and picked up the bill and said, “This is being taken care of.”</p><p>Never having this happen to me before, I muttered, “What? Who?” She just smiled and said, “The boys.” I looked over at the soldiers, and two of them looked away quickly.</p><p>As I rose to leave, I made eye contact with them and found myself coming to attention and sending a salute their way, all aches and pains forgotten. The salute was cheerfully returned.</p><p>It wasn't so much having my bill paid as it was being recognized ... you know, remembered. </p><p>Herbert Marchese</p><p>Boaz</p>